Something New
by Amends to the Living
Summary: "It doesn't really hit her, until she's sitting in someone's basement and she stares down into the bottom of a red solo cup. This is it. This is when she has finally come to the not-so-startling conclusion that there is simply no one like Brittany S. Pierce, in any way." Spoilers up to 4.09. Brittana, One-shot.


**Title: **Something New  
**Author:** Amends to the Living  
**Pairing:** Brittany Pierce & Santana Lopez (with mentions of Sam Evans)  
**Rating:** T (for brief language, angst, and cheesiness)  
**Spoilers:** Everything up to 4.09  
**Summary: **"It doesn't really hit her, until she's sitting in someone's basement and she stares down into the bottom of a red solo cup. This is it. This is when she has finally come to the not-so-startling conclusion that there is simply no one like Brittany S. Pierce, in any way."  
**Notes: **First attempt at Brittana, but it's probably wildly ooc, because Glee doesn't believe in consistency and I just cannot grasp their intended canon. This was written in one sitting as I patiently wait for tomorrow, when I'll be receiving my broadband set-up pack, so that I can finally load gifs and try to avoid directly breaking my heart with this show. That being said, I haven't written in ages, so I'm uber rusty. All mistakes are mine.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, clearly. Only my sad, sad shipper heart.

* * *

It doesn't really hit her, until she's sitting in someone's basement and she stares down into the bottom of a red solo cup: she misses Glee club. The sense of belonging that comes with being in a group of oddballs – outcasts, if you will – struggling to get through another year. She misses the bouts of rage that they induce, whenever they fight over solos (which should hands down go to her) or how bullies are treating them, as if they have any right to judge.

But most of all, she misses Brittany.

Sometimes she catches herself staring at a girl that looks similar from the side at a certain angle, when golden hair falls into their face and brushes against cheeks that should be sprinkled with faint freckles, but they're not.

And their eyes are never the same hue of blue, like an ocean that can simultaneously drown and cleanse her of her sins. The jokes are bland and predictable, instead of a clever, confusing analogy that sounds a lot more like an inside joke than a jab at anyone, because Britt wouldn't do that – unless it's Tina, which she did once or twice. Or Rachel Berry, because who wouldn't?

This is it.

This is when she has finally come to the not-so-startling conclusion that there is simply no one like Brittany S. Pierce, in any way.

* * *

It's late when she calls, somewhere around 4 am, and her first intention wasn't to startle her ex-girlfriend.

In fact, she had no intention of calling her again, if she could help it. Clearly, she couldn't. Her thumb hovered over the speed dial button for a grand total of 3 minutes and 42 seconds, which should have been some kind of record. Not for indecisiveness, but for pulling out of it with measured swiftness; if one could even call it that, anyway.

When it automatically goes to voicemail, Santana Lopez is relieved.

She finds her full lips opening and closing awkwardly, before getting cut off by a message that suddenly includes the image of a certain head of fake blonde hair that she spent a good majority of her high school career taunting: Trouty Mouth. _That's_ how she finds out that they're together, during a moment of weakness that wounds her pride and makes a mess out of that pesky little muscle thumping in her chest. Yes, a complete _fucking_ mess.

But she's standing on someone's porch in the middle of nowhere – at least as far as she's concerned, because she just can't _think_ right now – and for once in her life, she realizes that it's not the time or place for making a scene.

* * *

"Mija, isn't it a little late to be doing laundry?" her mother asks from her doorway, peeking inside with those thoughtful crinkles on the corners of her eyes that spell out concern and worry. It's only then that the raven-haired graduate turns her head to glance down calmly at her watch, completely bypassing the hands of the clock as they move when she notices the craftsmanship. Unclasping it from her wrist, she turns it over to see the initials engraved on the back of the clock's face, her eyes darting from one letter to another as her heart speeds up.

"Santana?"

The moment ends almost as quickly as it began. She blinks and addresses her mother with a faint smile, because a Lopez woman can _never_ stand being ignored. "You're right, I'll finish tomorrow. Good night." Pressing her lips against the matriarch's cheek, she briskly walks passed her and into her old bedroom, where the door closes with a quiet thud.

"Now_ that's_ more like the teenager that I remember."

With a wistful sigh, the elder woman sighs and follows suit, retreating to her bedroom. She chooses to ignore the light that spills out under the door of her daughter's room. Here's to hoping that she's doing something more Santana-like, perhaps like talking to Brittany. It causes her to grin as her cheek rests against the pillow, careful not to stir her husband as he snores lightly. She never could quite figure where one girl ended and another began.

* * *

The next day at the park, Santana finds that it's a lot different feeding the ducks when they don't particularly like you. Maybe when Brittany was around, they chose to tolerate her, but now? They seemed perfectly content with chasing her around with angry quacks, those quick little feet leaving tracks behind as they chased her towards a small fountain.

"I think I lost them," she muttered to herself, brushing herself off as she looked around inconspicuously, trying not to appear like a gang of ducks could make her run so fast. Nah, she was Santana _fucking_ Lopez! Ducks had nothing on her Lima Heights trained ass.

When she looks into the fountain, she notices that there are half a million pennies – okay, so that might be an exaggeration, but just go with it.

Arching a brow on her forehead, she reaches into it to retrieve a particularly weird looking coin, turning it around in her palm as she inspects it. It looks like something straight out of an Avatar movie, which only makes her lips turn into a frown and become more pronounced. "Trouty Mouth," Santana practically growls under her breath, grabbing the coin and flinging it as far into the bushes as she can.

Her hands curl inwards until her knuckles are white and she's not sure why she's standing in a complete fit of rage. But something washes over her and snaps at the mere thought that he was here, with her. No, this park was _theirs_ and he had no right.

* * *

The next day she gets a hysterical call from Blaine Warbler (because that's his full name in her head, in case you were wondering) and Santana can barely make out what he's trying to say, but when he mentions Britt… well, let's just say that things are a little different.

"Just spit it out, Warbler."

"She's going to marry Sam!"

Now, Santana never knew what it was like to black out, but that day, she got pretty damn close. Her breathing intake was suddenly monitored, because that's all that she felt like she could do – count how many breaths she was taking.

_One, two, three, four._

_Pick my goddamn heart off the floor._

"… what did you just say?"

But he wasn't listening, and apparently neither was she, because Blaine had been ranting on for the past hour and Santana was still stuck on the fact that a Warbler was calling her.

"Santana? Are you listening? Santana!"

That's when the line went dead, her grip on the phone loosening until it tumbled to the ground.

* * *

It's the last few hours until the infamous _End of the World_ and she's nursing a beer as she stares out into the sky. There isn't a single star out, which doesn't surprise her at all. Santana knows where the real stars can be found, begrudgingly alluding to Rachel Berry in New York and her ex-girlfriend in… well, wherever she was. Probably in the arms of a man that she once used and she sighs.

"I never did find out how many Breadstix could fit in that mouth…"

The condensation of the glass bottle makes the label start to peel off underneath her fingertips, giving Santana something to busy her mind with. For the next few minutes, she tries to pry it off without leaving any marks behind. It's a mindless mission, but it's suddenly this _one thing_ that she can control and she's frustrated when such a simple task becomes difficult.

Why couldn't she just admit that she wanted Brittany back?

"I want her back," she whispers into the gentle breeze, feeling the tears welling up in her mocha brown eyes as her voice grows louder and more desperate. It even cracks characteristically towards the end as she repeats herself. "I want her back."

Clutching her college hoodie tighter around her body, she sniffs them back and wills the moisture not to fall. What's even more pathetic is that she thought that Britt would call _her_. They should have been able to sit around and talk like old times, even if half of the conversation was potentially littered with "Sam this" or "Sam that."

She just thought that if the world was really ending, that she'd still be the one that Britt would want to spend it with.

But clearly she was wrong; yeah, dead wrong.

Santana missed the fact that there was someone standing right behind her, a person that she hadn't seen in almost a year or two. It was hard to tell, when it had once been someone that she saw everyday. But as the quiet sobs started to rack through her lithe body, she inhaled sharply at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around her middle, trying to comfort her broken bent form.

"Abuela?"

Neither Lopez woman spoke after that.

Santana accepted the embrace and tried to will the tears to stop, if only to appear less vulnerable in front of the only person whose opinion truly mattered and scared her the most. But it wasn't like it would make her any more of a lesbian, crying her eyes out for the love of her life. She didn't even believe that the world was truly ending, but it sure as hell felt like it now.

Feeling a hand pressing against her lower back and urging her inside, the younger one of the pair conceded and moved forward, wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. It was a scene that had only ever been repeated once, crying in front of her like that, and it was when she came out to her by proclaiming her love for her best friend. Ironically, her feelings had been the ones to break her heart this time –

Ugh, damn those stupid, _stupid_ feelings.

Accepting a tissue as it was handed her way, Santana finally managed to get herself under control, regaining her composure as they ended up right back in the kitchen. She tensed up at the familiar surroundings and didn't dare look up, out of the fear of witnessing a disappointed scowl curving that wise mouth. Embarrassed even, the dark-haired college student kept her head ducked down in an almost submissive way.

Half an hour could have passed without a word being spoken, but the tension eventually fizzled away until it was just them: two completely different generations sitting an arm's length away from each other, both a little too prideful to be the one to speak first.

"I didn't know you were here."

Out of the corner of her eye, Santana notices a faint nod of her head, but doesn't catch her eyes.

"I know."

Another beat passes in silence, both of them readjusting themselves in their chairs.

"I heard that Brittany is marrying someone."

The words weren't accusatory or harsh, as she was just stating a simple fact, but it made Santana flinch physically at the reminder.

"Yeah… yeah, me too."

Her grandmother's hand reaches out to touch Santana's chin then, raising her head slightly so that their eyes are level with one another.

"Why isn't it you?"

The question makes her heart clench in her chest, causing one of her hands to press against her skin as she feels the muscle jump up into her throat and settle there – because god, it's the _same_ fucking question she's been asking herself, ever since she caught wind of it.

When she sees that her grand daughter has no intention of answering, she presses on.

"Santana, you love her."

A single tear drifts down her cheek, but Santana merely brushes it gingerly away with her thumb, before shaking her head with a sharp exhale of regret.

"I thought I did… I thought that I loved her enough to let her go, so I broke up with her. But I didn't love her enough to do that, because here I am, and I just…"

Shaking her head, Santana let her words trail off when she felt like she couldn't continue.

"You're wasting time."

Finally, Santana raises her head on her own and catches her grandmother's concerned gaze, trying to remain strong as she focuses on the much needed advice from her guardian. "What do you mean?" she asks softly, barely above a whisper in an attempt to remain at peace with the one person that she once – and maybe always would - look up to the most.

"There's an hour left before _her_ world ends and you're sitting here with me. You know what you have to do, Santana Lopez. Go."

Standing up slowly, she pushes her chair away from the dining room table and stared back at the other woman with an equal dose of apprehension and gratitude.

"Go!"

Waking up with a start, Santana realizes that she passed out on the couch of her living room. A few empty bottles of beer littering the coffee table and she can taste the bittersweet aftertaste in her mouth from the amber liquid that she'd poured down her throat, like it was going out of style. Her parents aren't home yet, recalling briefly that they went out for a charity event of some sort, and her head is hurting like a jackhammer pounded through her skull.

But she quickly shuffles off the couch and lands on her feet, glancing down quickly at her watch as she speeds out of the house with her sweater in her tight grip.

She only has an hour to get her girl back.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Santana, but she's not home."

She's greeted with the same tone of familiarity and kindness that was always offered from the Pierce family, but there's something different in it, too. Like they're trying to gage exactly how much she knows – or how much she _wants_ to know, in its totality. But Santana can't be bothered with pleasantries or apologies, so she quickly nods her head and turns to leave.

"Try the park! That's where she went when she got cold feet about joining the Cheerios."

That caused the olive-skinned woman to pause mid-step and turn around, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing little smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah, I remember."

* * *

Santana can't say that she wasn't tempted by the idea of dropping by Breadstix on the way; because well, it was _right there_. But the thought left her mind as soon as it entered it, because her one priority right now was finding Brittany. It took her a little over fifteen minutes to find her, excluding the five minutes that it took to jog all the way there.

She knew that her time was running out.

God, she looked absolutely radiant in her white dress, which stopped mid-knee and flowed out in gentle waves, but was bunched up in her fists by her sides as she stared out into the fountain. The blonde was muttering something under her breath, but she couldn't quite make it out from her position. So she inched a little closer, using that as an excuse.

"Britt?"

The runaway bride's head snapped up at the intrusion, but her features softened immediately when her gaze fell on her ex. "Santana, hey." She had to stop herself from shortening her name, knowing that it wasn't right anymore – no, not when she was seemingly minutes away from marrying someone else.

"Hey, Brittany."

Santana's hands burrowed into her front pockets, thumbs hooking into the loopholes of her jeans as she closed the small distance between them, one foot in front of the other. When they were within hugging distance, she stopped abruptly, letting her gaze trail slowly from the ground up to her eyes. She was absolutely breathtaking.

"You found me."

Those three words made her chuckle, if only because there was still so much innocence behind those baby blues. "Of course I did." Santana didn't mention how easy it was to find her, even after all of this time.

"You're good at that," her words came out as a sigh, while her gaze fell to the floor in search of something that Santana couldn't fathom. I mean, as long as they had each other, what else did they need? But Britt didn't stop and it was starting to peak her interest.

"What is it?"

A lower lip was caught between a set of pearly whites, before being released.

Santana still thought that was the _sexiest_ thing ever.

"I can't find it…"

The university student opened her mouth to speak, but waited for Britt to clarify, patiently.

"Sam's lucky coin. He gave it to me when we met and I thought that it could be something borrowed. But I can't – I can't find it, now."

The frustration that wrinkled Brittany's brows and the bridge of her nose was absolutely adorable to the raven-haired beauty standing opposite of her, but she tried to look sympathetic. It didn't quite reach her eyes, though. "A coin? Like, an Avatar-looking coin?"

Britt's gaze instantly snapped up and a series of firm nods followed.

This only caused the Lopez to sigh heavily, because of course it would be _that_stupid coin that they were after, during the last few minutes of their lives. "Right." But her response came out a lot harsher than she intended, so she reprimanded herself and sighed, trying to calm herself.

"Sorry, I'll help you look."

* * *

The minutes were ticking down, but Santana was helpless to stop it; this utter waste of time, that is.

Until she wasn't.

"Britt," she called out, watching as the younger blonde poked her head above some bushes and gave her a hopeful look, to which she replied with a negative shake of her head. "I have another idea."

This gave the other woman pause, before she slowly stumbled out and stopped right in front of Santana, dry tears staining her perfect cheeks. Her make up would have to be done all over again, but it's not like she needed it. At least the olive-skinned woman didn't think so, as her mocha brown eyes narrowed in affection.

"Look, you don't need that. You already have something borrowed." Gulping, Santana folded her hands before her, resting them slightly over her chest like she tended to do when she sang from the heart. "But I don't want you to give it back."

Brittany narrowed her eyes in thought, dropping her gaze to the ground for a long, long moment. It hit her a few times, the possibilities of what Santana meant, but each time she found the raven-haired companion shaking her head. It was almost like they could read each other's minds, which wasn't weird at all. "Wait, do you mean…"

Just as she noticed the dilated pupils, Santana finally pursed her lips together and nodded.

"You have my heart… I'm not really sure in what moment I gave it to you, but I did."

But she wasn't done yet, not by a long shot.

"And those eyes of yours? The ones that I could fall into every day, given the chance? Blue, if I ever did see the true color."

Brittany stared back at her in wonder, amazed by the fact that she was still allowed to see this side of Santana Lopez. Even if it took the _End of the World_ and a wedding proposal to draw it out of her, it was still the most special privilege. One that she never thought she'd ever have again.

"As for something old, I guess…"

Santana took another step forward and another, before stopping when they could feel each other's breath on their skin.

"You could invite my Abuela. She'd be down for a hetero-fiesta."

They both laughed at that, even if Brittany didn't intend to. She didn't know that Santana's grandmother had spoken to her, much less encouraged her to seek out the blonde. For all she knew, they were still on the outs with each other, which always hurt her heart to know that she had been part of the cause for it, indirectly.

"And something new?"

Santana pursed her lips together in thought and shrugged, leaning slightly against the fountain and dipping her fingers into the warm water. "Hmm, good question…" She cupped her hand in the water to gather a bit of liquid, reminiscent of all the tears that she shed earlier, before she flicked it in the direction of the other woman.

Squeals and giggles filled the air as they splashed at each other, until Santana fell butt-first into the fountain with a loud gasp. Instead of being insulted or threatening to go all Lima Heights, she laughed until her stomach hurt. Brittany leaned over to offer her hand, and Santana would have been tempted to pull her down with her, if she didn't look so damn pretty in that dress.

"Ditch him and marry me."

The blonde's eyes widened suddenly as she turned her head to stare, as if Santana had just grown three extra heads. Because honestly, who said something like that? Well, obviously her ex-girlfriend did.

"Excuse me?"

Santana reached up to slick her wet hair back, kicking off her shoes and holding them in one hand, in hopes that they wouldn't squeak as much against the green blades of grass. "Start something new: marry me, Britt. Not today or tomorrow, but eventually. Marry me."

To her credit, Brittany was able to keep her composure, for all of about five seconds. "Santana, I wasn't going to say yes…" They were meant to be soft and tentative.

But the words hit Santana like a freight train.

"You're dressed in white and you're searching around for a stupid coin, Brittany."

"Only because I thought that if I found it, I could throw it in the fountain a second time and wish for Rory to come back. He likes gold, right? It could work," Brittany replied with a half-smile, a certain twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "And I like this dress, don't you?"

Santana's brows furrowed then, as the pieces started to fall into place.

"Well, what was your first wish, then?"

Brittany S. Pierce truly had the best smile and it wasn't until that very moment that she really appreciated it.

"You… I was waiting for you."


End file.
